Behind the Bookcase
by Secret Snoopy
Summary: To Harry, one kiss from Draco Malfoy is never enough.
1. One Kiss is Never Enough

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Author's Note: I'm dabbling into some Harry/Draco, which I have never done before, but it might be fun.

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**Behind the Bookcase  
**One Kiss is Never Enough

(Harry's POV)

I know I shouldn't. I know it's wrong.

But I can't help it.

Draco is sitting at a table in the virtually empty library, Crabbe and Goyle nowhere to be seen. Even Hermione is uncharacteristically missing. His head is bowed down on his parchment, his quill scrawling down the answers to the homework. I part two books from the shelf I remain hidden behind to steal a better glance. Silently, I watch him.

His consistent routine has become mine. Everyday, he gets to The Great Hall at precisely eight o'clock in the morning. I get there ten minutes before, just in case. He takes the same paths to class, eats his meals at the same time I do, then heads to the library straight after dinner. He doesn't leave until he completes his homework. _I_ don't leave until his completes his homework. Then he packs up and heads to his house, and I to mine. In between, he delivers about twenty insults. Yesterday was and tomorrow will be exactly as it is today.

He is mumbling to himself now, gazing up at the ceiling for an empty response. He nods to himself, finishes off a sentence, rolls the parchment up, and unrolls a new one. Potions is done. Next up is Charms.

I need to end this habit; it's not healthy for me. But like any addiction, it's easier said than done.

Draco stops writing, tapping his quill into the bottle of ink in thought. He surveys the area, perhaps searching for inspiration. He doesn't usually do this. Without ample time to conceal myself, he spots me from my place behind the bookcase. I instinctively push the books back to cover my face, but this worsens the situation. He knows for certain that I'm here.

My initial response is fight or flight, but the choice is not made by me. Before long, Draco finds his way to my side, the vein in his eye twitching ever so slightly. I swallow audibly.

"What do you want, Potter?"

I don't answer, simply because I do not know what to say.

"You know," he begins, leaning on the bookcase by his elbows. "I've noticed you've been watching me a lot lately. At first I thought you were finding a pathetic excuse of a hobby, but then I realized how to end this."

Before I'm given the chance to question him, Draco's lips crash violently to mine. After the initial shock wears off, I quickly embrace this new sensation, my tongue wandering out of its homeland, tasting him. There is a tenderness about him, something unexplainable, but something I desperately want to explore. My hands begin to venture onto his backside, pulling him closer.

He suddenly pulls apart, the kiss ending as forcefully as it had begun. Draco steps back and straightens his robes. I lean in, eagerly awaiting more, but he maintains a formal distance.

"There, you got what you want. Now please, leave me alone." He takes a seat back at the table and busies himself with his books again.

Befuddled and in disbelief, I obliged to his wishes. But when I reach the doors to depart, I cannot resist the urge to turn around. Draco's head is down at his work again, but his attention is clearly elsewhere. He is smiling to himself, the secretive kind of smile. I silently exit the library, a grin playing on my own lips.

Draco's wrong though. He didn't give me what I wanted. One kiss is never enough.

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Author's Note: This story came out of nowhere. Literally. Tell me what you think. 


	2. Routines are Designed to be Broken

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Author's Note: Originally a one-shot, I decided to expand upon it. Neither chapter is very long; each about 600 to 700 words in length.

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**Behind the Bookcase  
**Routines are Designed to be Broken

(Harry's POV)

I'm sitting in Potions class, trying to concentrate on my textbook. But my efforts are futile. Not to mention only half accord. How can I focus when Draco's sitting just two seats away?

My lack of sleep does not help much, either. I had spent a restless night, tossing and turning, trying to find any links to account for what happened last evening in the library. What could it have possibly meant? He had never expressed any behaviour prior that would suggest anything whatsoever. It doesn't make any sense at all. But I am determined to unravel Draco's mystery.

"Mr. Potter," Professor Snape's sharp voice breaks my daze. "Show me how much of your work you have completed so far."

I try to shield my blank parchment, but teachers have their way of knowing. Professor Snape sneers malevolently, and is quick to grant me a detention to ensure the work is done.

You know what that means. Draco's schedule does not permit time for detentions, and neither does mine. Like I need another reason to hate Snape.

I remain in class after the bell to finish my assignment. It takes much longer than I anticipate, with Snape glowering over my shoulder, watching every letter I record like a hawk. He gleefully informs me of my mistakes as I make them, not offering any assistance when I dare to I ask it.

It's almost eight o'clock before he finally allows me to leave. By now, Draco's surely back at his common room. I curse Professor Snape silently in my head.

I go to the library anyway, almost in a run but trying to seem inconspicuous. I take my usual stance behind the bookcase and peer out at the same table he always does his homework. Draco's books are open, his things littered across the surface, but there's no Draco.

"It took you long enough, Potter."

I whirl around. Standing to my immediate right, is Draco Malfoy.

"You rely too heavily on consistency," he informs me when I jump in surprise. "Do you really expect me to always be in the same place? I'm more complex than that."

I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out.

"I was wondering whether you'd come at all today," Draco continues. "I thought I might have given away too much yesterday, but I guess I was wrong."

My brow furrows in confusion.

"I guess it's okay to want more. I mean, who wouldn't?"

That same brow breaks a sweat.

"Don't like talking much, huh Potter? That's okay, we don't need to talk."

And in the same way two magnets snap into place, our mouths come together. Draco starts slowly, allowing me to dictate our pace. When he senses my utter content, he suddenly turns dominant. The abrupt force sends us both to the ground.

He lifts his head up, causing our lips to part. I'm fuming now. It's paralleling the day before. There is a limit to how much of his incessant teasing I can take.

That anger turns swiftly into lust when Draco's hands fumble with my belt buckle, and makes quick work with his own. His breathing is heavy, but his touch is light. It isn't until this moment, with my pants around my ankles and Draco's body pressed against my own like two skins, that I was finally free.

To some, a dependable routine gives people a sense of constancy, one where they can control their movements to every varying degree. But many routines, I'd learn, are designed to be broken.

**The End

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Author's Note: Pointless, yes I know, but I just felt like writing it. Tell me what you think!


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